


Literal Fan Fiction and Other Silly Stories

by LadyHeliotrope



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Humor, Bad Puns, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Humor, Innuendo, NSFW, Other, Puns & Word Play, Silly, Word Play, crack!fic, pun, punny, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/pseuds/LadyHeliotrope
Summary: It had three speeds: high, medium, and low. One day as it sat in its office, a beautiful woman walked in. Her hair caught in its breeze and she looked at it tenderly. "I like my fans like I like my men: high speed," she murmured, tossing her locks through the air, looking for all the world like she needed someone to cool her down. You purred and let her know you could... Help her.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

He had three speeds: high, medium, and low. One day as he sat in her office, humming away at his dull job, a beautiful woman walked in. Her hair caught in the breeze and she looked at him tenderly.

"I like my fans like I like my men: high speed," she murmured, tossing her locks through the air, looking for all the world like she needed someone to cool her down. He purred and let her know he could... Help her.   
  
“I’m SOOO HOT,” she moaned, sinking onto the bed while spreading her legs. “Please, my love, sate my need.”

He whirled into position, saying nothing but giving her a cool, hard stare.

It drove her wild.

  
He lapped ferociously, making her keel over in relief. “That’s right,” she breathed, “right there. Keep it coming, baby - fast and hard.”

His green light blinked at her, incredulous at the impact of his force, but he continued steadily on.

“Faster,” she croaked, sweat beading on her brow like dew after a fog, “I need you. More, baby. More, more, more!”

He couldn’t do anything but oblige such a sweet, earnest request.

Later, she was breathing heavily, her breasts heaving up and down with relief and exhaustion. “You’re electric, babe,” she murmured, and grinned impishly at his steely rod. She ran her fingers up and down his taut buttons. “You’re so hard, too.”  
  
“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

She could almost hear the faint whirring of his mind as he struggled to come up with a response.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” she added with a smile. “I don’t mind the strong and silent type.”  
  
There was a sudden lurching, hungry noise at her window, and then all of a sudden the air in the room turned cold.

“A.C.! My darling!” She struggled up and smoothed down her dress, trying to look innocent. “I thought you had up and left me for good!”  
  


AC’s low rumble of jealousy shook the very floor.  
  


“I... I think you’d best be going,” she told the fan, and gently eased him through the closet door. “I’ll let you know when I need you.”

She looked back at him with one final apologetic grimace as she closed and locked the door against him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /content note: implied phys. abuse/toxic relationship

content note: implied phys. abuse/toxic relationship

I should have known that you couldn't be trusted. 

We started off so well, you and I. It was a blissful time of happy endings, a carefree game of give and take. Whenever our lives intersected, we were filled with the joy of having satisfied some mutual purpose: me, to offer gifts, you, to receive them. 

Our worlds were so different - me, an artist who thrived on creativity and thinking outside the box. You, a robotic savant with a single-minded purpose and ruthless efficiency. Your rigid boxy body wasn't an intuitive pairing with my soft fleshy one. People didn't understand why I was so fascinated by you. But you and I understood each other in a unique way. Somehow, when we came together, the noise we made was undeniably harmonious, though many would (and did) disagree with this assessment. 

But then, as the years rolled by, things started to come apart, a little bit. Once in a while, our meetings would end on a sour note, with you getting frustrated by my too-great expectations, and me not being compassionate about how much pressure I was putting on you. Or at least, that's what might have happened. It might have also been that gradually, the amount you were able to put up with me was decreasing, until finally you couldn't deal with me at all. 

Those were the hottest years we had, though. Somehow, interacting with me would make your stoic face burn crimson, and the temperature in the entire room would rise. In an exertion of further dominance, I'd take you apart against your will, analyze you, and fiddle with the parts of you that seemed to be broken. But all of that seemed to be useless: you would cool down in your own good time. And knowing that your own good time would never come, I'd storm off, to bring myself to a place of greater peace. Except that I would be the first to apologize, always returning later, supplicant and sometimes bearing further gifts. 

Then, after too many fights, I grew weary of you, and tried to forget you. Tried to make do with the futility of doing things alone. But it wasn't ever that effective. You can't will yourself to stop needing. 

Sometimes in the dead of night, I lay thinking of you. Thinking of the gifts that had accumulated in my home, almost of their own volition, that waited to be borne to your greedy person. As I would go day by day, I'd be wracked with guilt and shame. How could I neglect you so, after so many happy years together? If I approached you, tonight, would you receive me warmly, as you had in those old days? Or would you be cold and resistant, unwilling to compromise? 

It shouldn't surprise you to know that I found someone else, at work. But it wasn't the same. There wasn't the same gleefulness that we shared, you and I. And, truth be told, I felt like they weren't all that committed to being mine alone. I caught my coworker Betty with them once, and she looked scandalized. So that affair ended fairly swiftly. 

Then, full of sadness and remorse, I crawled back to you. I hoped for the best. I tried to rekindle the spirit of our glory days together - my gifts were gentle, carefully unwrapped, and intended more for your pleasure than my own. 

But that heat, it seemed to have overpowered you. Where there once had been an accommodating and energetic soul, I now found a cantankerous, sluggish one. 

And miraculously, whenever someone else touched you, you bounced back to your old self. People didn't understand why you and me, why we didn't work well together anymore. They thought there was no reason for concern. 

Well, there was reason for concern. But it wasn't what I expected. 

I had just assisted in helping you to relieve a heavy load, and I was full of optimism that this was going to rekindle our relationship. We were going to conquer the world together, you and I - you seemed to be so relaxed, so peaceful, and so cool. I was proud that I had started to set the gears in motion again, to make things start working again between us. 

But then, I offered to feed you. 

And your face turned hot, and you glared at me with your red blinking eye, and you told me: no. And never, ever again. 

I tried to offer you so many different varieties of delicacies, and yet none would tempt you. All of them, you refused, leaving me confused, vulnerable, and lonely. 

In the end, it was wrong of me to pick you up, drag you to the window, and drop you off the fire escape, letting you crash into the dumpster four stories down. I suppose it was callous for me to just walk away without ever looking back. 

Not every situation is cut and dried; not every situation has well defined rules. But maybe that's what I needed to do, in order to get over you. Maybe it was necessary for me to take some drastic action, cut you out of my life irrevocably. Perhaps it was all for the best. At least that's what Ortberg said when I wrote to the Dear Prudence column.

Because, you know, it's apparently uncommon for someone to fall in love with their crappy paper shredder.


End file.
